Charles Sheffield - The Spheres of Heaven

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Banned from interstellar travel for their aggressiveness, humans have one last chance to regain the stars, provided they can solve the mystery of the disappearance of a pair of alien ships lost somewhere in the unknown part of space known as the Geyser Swirl. This sequel to
continues Sheffield’s far future history of humanity’s attempts to explore the universe. His skill at blending hard science with fast-paced plotting and colorful characters makes this a first-rate SF adventure that belongs in most libraries.

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Bony sounded upbeat. Chan didn’t let that fool him. Rather than being terrified by their situation, the Bun was exhilarated by the chance to try his fix-up skills on a ship that back in the solar system would have been consigned to the junkyard. Even so, repairing the Mood Indigo so it could fly might need magic; and the specialist in magic, Chrissie, was not here.

Chan paused to worry about that, too, while the others were opening the lowest hatch on the ship and putting in place the portable ladder. He watched as the Angel was lifted and stuffed unceremoniously inside.

It was all a question of timing and distance. If The One followed her original plan, Chan had about two hours. Chrissie and Tarbush would have less than that to reach the Mood Indigo , assuming that he called them now and was able to contact them at once. Every minute he waited decreased their margin. On the other hand, once he made a call the Malacostracans might detect it, trace its point of origin, and either capture the party on the Mood Indigo or simply destroy the ship.

Chan went to the ladder and ascended. He did not enter the ship, but simply poked his head inside the hatch. Bony already had everyone except the Angel organized and hard at work. He caught sight of Chan and called, “Come inside. I want to close the hatch and check pressurization.”

“I’ll be outside for a while longer. Carry on with your test, and I’ll be in when it’s finished.”

In a sense it made Chan’s decision for him. The internal pressure change and test of hull integrity would take at least half an hour. Bony had all the help that he needed. Chan was ready to duck away and descend the ladder when he realized that there was still a missing piece. He stuck his head back in and called again.

Bony glared impatiently at Chan. As he came over to him he said, “Look, if you want me to get this thing to fly—”

“I do. We may have to try, even if the ship isn’t ready. Have Liddy keep an eye open for any big vessel taking off from the Mallies’ field and heading out to sea. If she sees one, you lift off and follow it — whether I’m on board or not.”

Bony looked startled. “But if you’re not here—”

“Do it. I’ll explain later.” If there is a later . Chan ignored Bony and called to Elke, “Do you have the protocols you developed for moving between levels of the multiverse?”

She was over by the little computer of the Mood Indigo , studying it. She gave Chan or the computer — it was hard to tell which — a disdainful glare. “Of course.”

“If Bony takes off, feed him the final one of those protocols, and tell him to use it.”

“But won’t you be at the controls? You were the one—”

Chan was out of the hatch and down the ladder before he could hear the rest of her sentence.

He glanced around him. He needed a location with some specific properties. It had to be high, so that it provided good line-of-sight radio transmission over a wide area. It needed to be in a position from which the Mood Indigo was not directly visible; and ideally it should be hidden from the Malacostracan encampment.

The best he could manage was a compromise. He walked southeast for ten minutes, away from the sea and over the brow of a jutting ridge. On the other side of the hill he stopped. He couldn’t see the encampment, and he couldn’t see the ship. But would anyone hear him?

He began transmission. “Chrissie and Tarb, are you receiving? Hello. Can you hear me?”

He repeated the message three times at one-minute intervals. He was looking at his watch and beginning to feel that he was wasting his time when the receiver beeped. A breathless voice said, “Are you there?”

“Chrissie?”

“Yes. And Tarb. We’ve been sending out signals every hour, but we move around all the time because we don’t want the Malacostracans to be able to home in on our signal. We’re both fine.”

“Good. Where are you?”

“We’re in the area that Elke Siry marked as `badlands.’ She wasn’t kidding. When we heard your call we were only forty meters from our suits, but it took us until now to scramble back to them. This place is more up and down than sideways. It has caves and crevasses and overhangs worse than Miranda. Where are you ? My suit shows you farther south and closer than I expected.”

“How far?”

“About ten kilometers line-of-sight.”

“Damn.” Chan chose his next words carefully. He had to assume that the Mallies might be listening, and that Friday Indigo would be there to interpret anything that was said. “We left the Hero’s Return . You have our heading and our distance. Can you get here in two hours?”

He heard Chrissie’s snort of amusement. “Are you kidding? Ten kilometers line-of-sight is like fifty on the ground. We picked this place so we’d be hard to get at, and it’s just as hard to get out. If we didn’t fall over a cliff or down a sink hole — the area is full of them — we might reach you before dark. More likely it would be sometime tomorrow.”

“That’s what I was afraid you’d say. How’s your supply situation?”

“We took care of that. Friday Indigo gets by eating native flora or fauna, but we didn’t like the look of the stuff. We raided the camp supply case and brought enough food and drink to last for weeks.”

“Good. Now listen closely, because we don’t have much more time. The Mallies could be homing in on both of us.”

He spoke fast for two minutes.

“Got it,” Chrissie said cheerfully when he was finished. “Go do your thing, right now. Tarb and I will cross our fingers.”

“So will we. For you. Oh, and keep your eyes open for Vow-of-Silence. I don’t have time to tell you what happened to her, but she’s running loose along with Eager Seeker.”

“We saw a few Tinker components here and there in the bushes, but no sign of a Composite. We’ll be on the lookout. Scruffy is still missing, too, and I’ll never persuade Tarbush to go without her. Don’t worry about us. We’ll manage. Ready to close?”

“Closing.”

Chan went at once to the top of the ridge and scanned the horizon in the direction of the Malacostracan encampment. The sky was clear. No angry swarm of trifoliate aircraft was heading his way, but that might change any second.

He hurried back to the Mood Indigo . The hatch was closed, but Tully opened it at the first knock.

“Saw you hurrying, had us worrying,” he said. “Come in.”

“How was the pressurization test?”

“The ship’s all right, good and tight. We can fly.”

The Mood Indigo had been designed for a crew of three, and the flight deck was crowded with seven humans and an Angel. Bony had gone a step beyond Chan’s order, and posted lookouts at each of the three ports. “You said to watch for anything coming from the Mallies’ field,” he said, as Chan joined him at the control console. Elke Siry was already in the copilot chair. “But I thought we ought to know about anything that flies, no matter what direction it comes from.”

He stood up. “Here. You and Elke can handle the ship better than me. There’s a few hundred things I’d like to check before we take off.”

“Tully said we are ready to fly.”

“I told him that so he wouldn’t fiddle with equipment he doesn’t understand. I feel sure we can go up if we have to. But I need another hour before I’m convinced that we can stay there.”

Bony headed for the lower levels, down to the engine room of the Mood Indigo . Chan sat down and reviewed the status panel. It was a mass of red flashing lights. Every external antenna had been swept away. Most of the imaging sensors were out of action, leaving the ship partially blind. One of the seven main engines was clogged, probably with silt, and another contained a hairline crack in its fuel feed. Neither could be used without danger of an explosion. The ship’s profile had been deformed by structural changes to one of the airlocks. Two stabilizer fins were bent, and a third had been ripped off. Atmospheric flight, if it happened at all, would be a combination of computer thrust balance and human seat-of-the-pants improvisation.

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